Chapter 34 Colton

CHAPTER 34

Colton

CHANCE STARTS OUT at a slow walk to get warmed up, but as the sun's rays grow stronger, even behind the thick blanket of clouds, he moves faster across the rutted terrain. Soon we've reached a steady trot over the dusty lane leading west.

It's tranquil out here, with only Chance and Mother Nature for company. Usually I like being alone with them and my thoughts, but not so much this morning. Not even the strongest cowboy coffee could wash away the bitter taste of regret and disappointment.

Chance and I follow the muddy creek bed around the base of a hill until it turns north. We keep on until we reach the edge of the long paved road that leads from the highway to Fort Bellows. It's quiet now—not a car in either direction—but traffic will pick up once the main gate opens.

The ride back to Fort Bellows goes more slowly. Maybe it's because I'm tired from a restless night of tossing and turning on a lumpy bunk mattress. Or maybe it's because I'm not looking forward to having to face Riley after overhearing the argument with her mother. Either way, I don't coax Chance to go any faster than his current plodding gait. At this rate, it could take hours.

When we're about halfway back, I see another horse and rider heading for us at a pretty good clip. From the way the rider slouches in his saddle, I know it's Jake Harding. What thehell is he doing out here? Come to gloat?

"Colton," he calls, spurring his horse forward to close the distance between us. "You're looking extra grumpy today." He circles around and pulls his horse parallel to Chance. His gelled hair is an artfully windswept mess and his chest heaves beneath his partially unbuttoned shirt as if he was the one doing all the running to get here instead of his horse.

"I didn't get much sleep." My voice is gravelly and clipped.

"She kept you up all night, huh?" he says with a knowing smirk.

"I'm not sure how that's any of your business," I growl.

Jake holds up his hands. "I just want to know where things stand with you two. I'd hate to get accused of poaching if she's still on your scorecard."

My molars clink together as my jaw snaps shut. "There're so many things wrong with that statement, I don't even know where to start."

Chance paws the ground, picking up on my tension. I brush a hand over his neck to let him know I'm all right.

"You know what I mean, bro," Jake says. I'm sure if we weren't on horseback, he probably would have elbowed me in the ribs in that pretend buddy-buddy way of his that really pisses me off.

"Do I?" I ask through clenched teeth, my hard stare focused on his face. My fingers grip the reins, but I'm careful to keep my posture relaxed for Chance's sake.

Jake must sense he's walking a fine line with me, because he's the first to break eye contact. "I just didn't want to step on any toes."

"Not my toes you should be worried about. Riley's her own person."

As much as I'd like to add that she's free to make her own choices and that her choice yesterday was me, clearly, it's a hollow victory, at best. It hurts to know that I'm not enough to make Nebraska even slightly bearable.

"What are you doing out here, anyhow?" Jake asks, wisely changing the subject.

I'm in no mood for his bullshit today.

"Clearing my head." The polite thing would be to ask what Jake's doing out here, but I don't feel like being polite.

"I was just heading back to Fort Bellows myself," Jake says with a lazy grin. "Had a late night with some buddies over at the quarry. We were having so much fun, you should have been there. My phone died, though, so I completely lost track of time." And all sense of responsibility, apparently, since staff members aren't supposed to just wander off in the middle of an expedition. "What time is it?"

"Just about noon," I grunt.

"Cool," Jake says. "Plenty of time to grab lunch at the tavern before the wagons roll out."

I urge Chance into a walk and Jake and his mount follow alongside. The sun is high when we come up over a low rise, and we get a decent view of Fort Bellows and the surrounding area. The prairie stretches out around us for miles and miles. On the far side of the fort, close to where we'll catch the trail back toward Darby later today, a group of bison graze. There are maybe thirty animals in the herd.

"You never lose track of time, do you, Colton?" he asks, pulling my attention away from the bison.

"It's hard to do when you can tell time from the location of the sun and the stars," I reply.

Jake laughs like I've just told a hilarious joke. At our current pace, it'll take another half hour or so to get back to the fort. With his constant barbs and comments, it'll feel more like two hours, and I'm not sure I can handle it. Not today. I'm tempted to urge Chance into a gallop, but I don't want to overwork him, since we'll be heading out on the trail again soon.

A sharp crackle echoes across the prairie.

"Was that a gunshot?" he asks.

"Sounds more like firecrackers," I mumble.

Another crackle sends a flock of birds whirling into the sky.

"Oh shit," Jake says, pointing to a cloud billowing up near the herd of bison. I can barely make out a group of boys darting back toward the fort as the herd paces in agitation. Bison aren't usually spooked by loud noises, so hopefully they won't stampede. But bison can be fast and aggressive, especially in the spring, when there are calves or the males are rutting.

My eyes are on the herd when Jake smacks me on the arm.

"Hey, isn't that Riley?" he asks.

Jake points toward a lone figure hiking back toward the fort. She's probably a few football fields away, closer to us than the fort. Her eyes are focused at the ground in front of her, the majority of her face shielded by the brim of her baseball cap.

Before I have a chance to answer him, a loud boom cuts me off, followed by a series of at least five others. That wasn't a firecracker. That was a Roman candle. Smoke billows from the middle of the herd and then all hell breaks loose. Jumpy, agitated animals bump into each other and suddenly the whole herd is in motion. Clods of dirt and clouds of dust rise behind them. At first they head away from the fort. But then the worst thing happens. The stampede suddenly changes direction.

"They're heading right for Riley," I say, spurring Chance into a gallop. "Shit."